


An Empty Heirloom

by ncfan



Series: Legendarium Ladies April [32]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, POV Female Character, Ring of Barahir, Tumblr: legendariumladiesapril, legendarium ladies april
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: It had raised many questions that Silmariën had been given this ring, rather than her brother.





	An Empty Heirloom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April 25th, 2018 [general prompt](), ‘Objects.’

It was obvious to Silmariën that the ring had been resized many times, even before it had come to her. When she thought about it, that made perfect sense. The ring had belonged originally to an Elven king, and one of high blood, at that. Then, it passed between so many pairs of hands that it would have been more unusual if it had not been resized at least two or three times. Her father was capable of telling stories about each and every one of the ring’s owners. Had done, with such fondness that one could easily believe he spoke of old friends.

Silmariën knew those stories. She did not share her father’s overwhelming zeal for the tales, but she knew from whence her people had sprung. It was important, she knew, never to forget where you had come from.

However it might have been resized to fit a woman’s hand, the Ring of Barahir was a heavy one. It was weighted down with history, and symbolic significance, and promise.

Huh, promise.

For her, all those promises had come to nothing.

There were times when Silmariën wondered just how her brother felt over this ring falling into her possession, rather than this. It had been years, and she could still remember as if it had been yesterday the whispers that had gripped the court when Tar-Elendil presented his firstborn with the Ring of Barahir. There was a flurry of speculation among the courtiers, a quiet panic among the king’s councilors, and the same quiet lack of reaction from Isilmë and Meneldur both. The Ring of Barahir had gone to the king’s firstborn daughter rather than his only son, and this had raised many questions.

Meneldur never asked these questions, not in Silmariën’s hearing. Silmariën didn’t know if that was confident complacence, or if he just didn’t care. Meneldur was… It was possible he simply didn’t care. He was growing into the sort of man who cared little for power, though he might take up authority will all due scrupulousness. If he was passed over in favor of his sister, he still had the stars, and his study of them.

The Ring of Barahir had gone to Silmariën rather than her brother, and if questions were raised by that, Silmariën had certainly been one of those who had asked herself these questions.  Perhaps, perhaps. The world was full of possibility, and perhaps…

But it was not to be. Of all the stories her father loved, very few presented positive examples of a woman’s capacity to rule, and Tar-Elendil was not willing to upend tradition for his daughter. When he gave her this ring, it had been a gesture of affection, a taken, and an empty promise whose sting could still be felt.

It was a heavy ring; it weighed down Silmariën’s hand every time she wore it. Weighted down with history and symbolic significance and promise, and oh, what a weight to carry when it was given without the scepter that ought to have come with it. Silmariën had been given the Andustar, instead; a lord in her own right, but still a vassal, in spite of the ring she bore.

But perhaps, one day, the ring she had been gifted would be more than an empty heirloom, signifying a king’s affection and nothing more. Perhaps there would come a day when people forgot how strange it had been that she had been given even this much, if she was not to be the heir. Perhaps there would come a day when people no longer questioned the reason why she had been given it, and asked other questions, instead. It had, after all, once been the ring of the king. Silmariën would never been queen, but she had the feeling that one day, the one who bore this ring would rule as she had never been allowed to. That person would look at the ring that had just been resized to fit them and they would think not of Elros or Finrod or even Barahir, but of her. She would like that.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Andustar** —The western promontory of Númenor. The north of this region was rocky, with forests of fir trees on the coast. Andustar contained three small bays which all faced west, the most northern of which was the Bay of Andúnië. The south of the Andustar was fertile, and there were forests of birch, beech, oak and elm trees. Timber was this region’s main source of wealth.


End file.
